*open* Musings

[Lioness]

Melindy sensed that not all was well with her mindmate, though she wasn't sure exactly what was troubling. He sat on the ledge outside their shared Weyr, grinding his claws against the hard stone and being uncharacteristically quiet. Without a word, the woman put down her book and came to his side, resting a hand lovingly on the warm skin of his neck. She sent him a silent question.

I don't know, exactly.[/i] The brown admitted with unusual gravity. It's just that, everything keeps changing, strange stuff keeps happening. I don't mind really but... His thought's trailed off, and Melindy stayed silent. She knew what Harvith meant; what with the lack of a weyrleader, the death of the old one and his weyrwoman, greens wanting to clutch and strange lights being seen in the sky, not to mention, of course, the Lost Turn, it did seem that a century's worth of strange events were happening in just a few short Turns, and Melindy had the feeling that more were coming. It was all a little unsettling, and that was what the big brown was reflecting. Harvith, big, confident Harvith, was unsettled.

Of course, there wasn't much that Melindy could truthfully say to comfort her mindmate, and she wasn't the type of rider who would lie just to quiet her beast, so she sat down and lent her head against his warm shoulder, mentally telling him that she understood.

The two sat like that for some time, until Melindy had to go inside and fetch another coat against the cold winter air. When she returned, Harvith was standing up, shaking his wings out. Enough of this silly brooding![/i] He told her. Come, let's go for a flight together and clear our heads.[/i] Melindy smiled, an expression she reserved exclusively for her mindmate and her few trusted friends, and went back inside to retrieve her riding straps. Their wing was having a day off of drills, after all, so there would be no harm in the two spending a little quality time together.

In the end, they flew for longer than Melindy had intended, and when Harvith came down to land in the weyrbowl, the afternoon was fast approaching evening. She did feel better though, and Harvith was back up to his usual self, so she felt that the venture had been worth it. She slipped off his back easily with the help of an offered foreleg and looked up into his happily swirling eyes. Go on in,[/i] He told her, motioning towards the living caverns. Before you catch a chill.[/i]

Amused, Melindy reached up to stroke Harvith's nose lovingly. She knew that the brown wanted to spend some time with his own kind before he bedded down for the night. Very well, Dearest, but don't come back too late; we have drills in the morning, don't forget, and we must be well rested. Harvith snorted, blowing hot air over his rider, but then mentally assured her that he would. Melindy smiled again and walked to her dragon's side, beginning the process of removing his riding straps so he would be comfortable.

[Sher]

"Ho there, dragonrider!" A boisterous voice called to Melindy from halfway across the weyrbowl. The resident Master Stonesmith hurried in her direction, mopping his forehead with the long sleeve of his sweater. Leaving sweat beaded in the cold of winter was never a good idea. The guy's workbelt clattered as various tools of his trade bumped against one another, but he waited to say more until he was within a regular speaking distance. "Brownrider." He paused to give a hasty nod to Harvith, so as not to exclude him from the rough greeting. "I been taking orders from riders to make sure the individual weyrs in use have priority for having alterations done."

Primbel hesitated distractedly, sizing up the woman and her dragon. Female brownriders weren't so uncommon that the glance became a stare, but one always wondered what it was about a lady that caused male dragons to choose them! In a general sort of way he recognized her, but remembering her name was quite beyond him. The dragon was more memorable- browns weren't often that large, and this was one of the biggest in the Weyr.

Most of the time the stonesmith did well to finish his quota of work without being buggered by folks thinking they could hurry him along by telling him what else needed done. "Since browns are next on the list and yer right here, I figgered I'd ask. What needs doin' in your weyr?" Primbel's hands produced a scrap of leather and one of those new engineered pens that hardly leaked, brisk and ready to take notes if needed.

There was no sign of his firelizard, for which he was grateful. Little girl had been very secretive, but sweet as pie, and that almost certainly meant she was going to lay a clutch sometime soon. Talk about unwanted distractions...

[Lioness]

Melindy was rather surprised to hear the great, booming voice thrown in her direction, and she looked up distractedly; Harvith's straps only half-off and dangling from his belly awkwardly. She recognised the stonesmith easily; the short, stocky man was often seen hurrying about the Weyr, though he'd never spoken to Melindy before. She rather wished he'd chosen a different time; she could feel a hot cup of klah calling her from her weyr, but she wouldn't be rude and send him off. Harvith turned his head to peer curiously at the man with one multi-faceted eye.

Melindy listened to the smith's explanation with a neutral expression, then looked thoughtful once he'd finished. Thinking about it, there were a few things that needed doing. None of them were so pressing that she would have seeked out a smith herself, at least not for a while, but seeing as he was offering, she decided that it only made sense to accept the offer; if this man was as busy as he often looked, she might have to wait quite some time for repairs if she didn't take this oppurtunity now.

"Well," She began in her deep, slow voice, "Harvith's couch is in need of resanding; he's scratched it with his claws, and one of the hinges on the door has come loose, though I suppose that isn't your area of expertise." She thought that a metalsmith migwould probably be more suited to the job "Otherwise I would like the living area of the weyr expanded, though I can wait for that." Having completed her list, Melindy fell silent and waited for Primbel's reply. She expected him to tell her that she would indeed have to wait to have her weyr expanded; it was something many of the riders were after and Melindy was certain that the riders of the metallics would have priority. Still, it wasn't something she urgently needed, and she wasn't uncomfortable in her weyr as it was.

I for one would like my sleeping area expanded.[/i] Harvith commented to Melindy pompously, It was built with the proportions of normal-sized browns in mind, you see, not one practically as big as a bronze.[/i] As she was in the presence of another human, Melindy did not smile at her mindmate's self-importance, but she did send a feeling of loving amusement across to the brown.

We couldn't possibly burden with any more work, darling, let us wait until there are less pressing matters at hand. Was all she said.

[Sher]

Primbel's hands were steady as he scribbled rapid notes down in his own chicken-scratch shorthand style, eyes intent on the words. "Will probably delegate the door hinge job. I could do it, but I'm a mite faster with stone." No hint of bragging, there; just simple honesty. The man put his writing implements back in their place and continued, a slight frown tugging his thick eyebrows together as he glanced toward the waiting warmth of the Living Caverns. "No need to wait for an expansion, but the dragon couch first," he said briefly, and met her eyes with a characteristic wide grin. The stonesmith doubted there'd be any issue with that. "Name please, so's I can take yer off the list of orders?"

A list that might as well have been a mile long. If the Master of his crafthall had only sent another few journeymen, Primbel needn't feel quite so rushed. But for all his flaws the man was determined to do right by the Weyr; riders with rank would have their places seen to first, hopefully in a timely way. The other odd hundred would likely be waiting until next Turn. Primbel didn't like it, but rank was rank, and everyone was making do in the still-rough Weyr. Frankly, the progress in the last five Turns alone was nothing short of remarkable.

Most of all, the man wanted to make things as comfortable as possible for the dragonriders. As a part of the ground crew for the first few 'Falls, Primbel thought he had a pretty fair grasp of what the old ballads meant. The casualties had been few so far, but spring was rapidly approaching. It set a sinking feeling through his gut, wondering whether this brown and His would be among the next to perish.

According to the Records, someone usually did.

[Lioness]

Melindy watched the smith, her expression still neutral but with a pleased glint her eye. Primbel seemed, from what she could see so far, to be a very sensible man; most people, she knew, would have waited for the rider to come to them to decrease their workload somewhat, and most would have been at least slightly put out by the list of jobs Melindy had given. Having said that, Primbel might well be put-out and hiding it behind an industrious mask. She didn’t think so, but she didn’t know him well enough to know for sure. Either way, he was obviously devoted to his craft.

“Melindy of Brown Harvith,” Melindy told him when he asked for her name, automatically adding the second part from habit. Harvith snorted lightly and swung his head to gently nudge Melindy’s shoulder in a playful gesture. One of these days, someone is going to get it right and say Brown Harvith of Melindy. He teased. Melindy reached up to scratch the big brown absently under his chin, making him rumble softly. May I go?[/i] He asked with sudden urgency, I see Hunth on that ledge there.[/i] Melindy looked up, and saw to her amusement that the reason for Harvith’s sudden hurry was that one of the other browns was getting rather close to his preferred mate.

“Excuse me a moment,” She said politely to Primbel, and turned to quickly undo the last buckle of Harvith’s harness, making the whole thing slide towards the floor. She caught it and deftly flung it over her shoulder, and Harvith took a few steps back before flinging himself into the air. Once the wind of his passing had died down, Melindy asked, “Are you taking payment from the riders individually or is the Weyr covering it?” Her voice was business-like, with a neutral tone that said she didn’t mind anyway, but she did fix the smith with a stare. Primbel lived in the Weyr, she knew, but she supposed that he would still expect payment for his work and that of his subordinates.

[Sher]

Primbel hugged his arms around himself in the chill, seeming much younger for just a moment as he shivered in the wind of Harvith's takeoff. "Primbel, Master Stonesmith," he returned, with a toothy chatter before he clamped his jaws shut and mastered the impulse. "The Weyr has been covering all the costs, as it should be. It'd be different if riders transferring away from the Weyr could take our work with them!" The idea was so absurd, he had to laugh, and he did so heartily and longer than what was tactful. Imagine... a dragon trying to carry its own weyr away... Thick fingers wiped away the salty leakings of amusement from his eyes. "Of course, it's Lemos that really provides what-all we need."

From between, his gold firelizard Sulee swept down, chittering raucously and clutching a rolled bit of paper in her claws. The stonesmith's arm came up automatically to provide her a proper landing surface, though he winced just slightly as her claws dug in a bit too roughly. The gold dropped the message into his waiting palm and climbed to the man's shoulder. She turned to tilt her head curiously at Melindy, and chirped an inquiry. Meanwhile Primbel had managed to unroll the paper and was scowling fiercely. "Dratted apprentice," he said in a low growl. "If he's cracked the stone, I'll-!" What he planned to do was lost in incoherent muttering. He whirled on his heel and started away, making it several paces before his head jerked up and he spun again.

"Pardon me, brownrider," the man said, fingers tapping a chisel hanging from his belt. "There's a situation I must attend to. Fair skies!" As he hurried away as fast as he'd come, one might wonder where the last-minute formality had come from. Whatever else he was, the stonesmith was definitely not known for courtly manners.

[ambigious]

It had been quite a day, indeed. Poor Madison was still reeling inwardly from her encounter with Weyrwoman Kadia. Although the woman was kind, and meant well, Madison had a terrible social phobia that had been amplified by recent events in the Weyr. After having stumbled awkwardly through their encounter, Madison had locked herself in her Weyr for some much-needed downtime and devoured two whole novels. Of course, this type of behavior didn't sit well with Aliseth, so the next morning the green woke her rider bright and early with supplications for a bath. Despite the chill weather, Madison obliged, shivering as she finished oiling off the small green. A thick pair of riding boots clung to her small, toned legs, and a thick whool cloak covered her thick cotton, long-sleeved dress, slit along one side to allow for ease of mounting. Madi didn't quite care what she looked like, but Aliseth insisted she looked her best, and had the material ordered a light shade of brown to accent her dark hair and caramel colored eyes.

Madison's lashes burned with cold as she slapped Aliseth's neckridge fondly, her fingers shaking. "Alright, my love," the young woman said quietly without any hint of a stammer, "into the water you go." But not for long, Madi added silently as Aliseth lumbered away, her tail swishing fanatically behind her. I don't want your hide to crack. Oh believe me, Madimine,[/i] Aliseth drolled, I don't plan on staying in the water longer than necessary. Now go grab some hot klah and a snack before you freeze.[/i] The hint of a smile tugged at Madison's rosebud lips as she pulled the cloak more firmly about herself with a shudder. It was sharding freezing out here! She definitely wouldn't mind a hot meal.

As Madison turned and began her brisk stride across the Weyrbowl towards the Dining Cavern, she kept her head bent to avoid the toughest gusts of chill wind. As such, and partially due to her slight figure of 5"3, she was quite unaware of Primbel's large form barreling towards her. At the last second a bugle from Aliseth alerted her. Madison, a man approaches,[/i] the green said quickly. Madison snapped her head up and, spotting the hulking form of the Master Stonesmith bearing down upon her, she blanched in alarm. The greenrider was graceful on the best of days, clumsy on others, and practically fatal-on-feet in social situations. This was a fatal-on-feet encounter, for in her haste to scramble out of Primbel's way she slipped on a bit of black ice and pitched forward, arms flailing for a hold on something.

Even before her rider had begun to fall, Aliseth released a creel of distress and dove out of the lake, droplets spiraling away from her soft green form as she tried to run awkwardly towards her rider. Rider, catch mine![/i] Aliseth reached out mentally to the nearest individual, who in this instance happened to be Melindy, her tone shrill and demanding.